Anathema
by TheLastWatanagashi
Summary: Sadoka has trouble making friends. She has an unintentionally scary disposition, from her looks to her negative personality. It may have landed her an acting job, but will that only serve to push people even farther away…? NekozawaXOCXKasonada


Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club.

Also... this isn't a dream sequence. Or a flashback.

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_A beautiful young girl sat huddled on her living room sofa, clothed in only a wispy negligee. She shivered and pulled her legs to her chest, wrapping a blue blanket tightly around her small form. Her expression was one of utter fear, as though she would begin to cry at any second._

_She reached forlornly towards a tableside lamp, tugging gently on the pulley-switch. Although it emitted a soft click, the room remained as dark as a sealed coffin. _

_Suddenly, she heard something strange--was it a sigh? She rose nervously to her feet, her breathing becoming more audible. _

BANG! BANG!

_Someone was pounding on the front door! The girl trembled slightly and skittered towards the sound, peering through the tiny magnified lens installed on the door. A blood-shot eye stared back._

_The girl screamed and fell backwards. An enraged cry resounded from the other side and the noise of fists falling against wood resumed, more powerful than before._

_Gasping, the young girl scrambled away. She hurriedly pushed the couch to block the entrance to the house, and then ran into the hallway. As she glanced back, she saw the wood of the door splinter, and a bloodied hand shot through the opening and grasped for the handle…_

"_Leave me _alone!_" She shrieked, tearing her gaze away._

_All the young woman could do was run. She turned a corner and pulled open a door; the bathroom, the only room in the house with a lock. Once inside, she pushes the small button on the door's handle. As she stepped backwards into the wall, her chest heaved. The girl rid herself of the blanket and sat parallel from the door. _

_She was focusing so hard on calming down that she almost didn't notice the sudden impact of wetness on her face. Thinking that she was crying, she lifted her hand to touch the spot. Her finger came away red. Another crimson splotch dripped onto her palm._

_Not daring to breathe and hoping that it was an illusion, the girl slowly lifted her eyes to the ceiling._

_The grate covering an air-conditioning duct was gone. In it's place a monstrous figure hung, it's outstretched arm only inches above the girl's head. It's long hair, thick and tangled, shook as it squirmed from the duct and into the room. Despite it's human appearance, it moved with in such a convulsing manner it appeared more like a snake than a woman._

"_Nooooo!" The girl yelled, trying to bolt for the door. The long-fingered hand shot out and twisted into her hair, pulling her away from any chances of escaping. It yanked her unto her feet, until their faces were only inches apart._

_The figure's face spilt into an upside-down grin, dementedly gleeful. Blood ran in rivulets from the corner's of it's mouth and formed puddles on the floor._

"_I _fooound _you." It sang happily._

"CUT!" Screamed the director. A few of the idle cast member clapped lazily. It wasn't that they were impressed with the performance, but that they were glad that the shooting was done for the day. The maintenance crew leaned against a wall looking peeved, and a janitor had already shown up to clean up the foam coffee cups and crappy magazines strewn all over the set.

I guessed that filming had run overtime again. The director, Saruwatari, was never happy about anything, so it wasn't unusual for us to do the same take over and over. He was always eager to get every detail perfect, but considering how close the deadline is looming, his behavior ends up being more of a hindrance than a help.

But when he gets impatient, the pressure always came down hard on the actors. After all, the success of the film stood on our error-prone shoulders.

Saruwatari stood and waved for everyone's attention.

"Take a break while we edit this scene. If everything checks out, we'll call it a wrap for the day. Be back in half an hour in case we need to re-film this segment." Then he, along with the camera men and the main editor, stepped outside to take a smoke.

Sumire Kandou, my co-star, stood up and glanced disdainfully at me. She turned on her heels and strode off the set, towards the shared dressing room, leaving me alone. I watched her go, eyeing her pretty outfit and confident walk with envy.

The straps attached to my ankles were beginning to chafe harshly. Fake blood, spattered on the floor and in my mouth, tasted like plastic. It's foul chemical scent it was starting to make my vision swim. Or was it the blood rushing to my head?

As I lost feeling in my legs, I tried shifting around to see if it was possible to wiggle out of the faux-ceiling I was lodged in. Every movement I made only served to swing me in a circle, and I started to feel nauseas on top of everything else.

As I became more and more uncomfortable, I called for the assistant director, Takeda.

"Yeah, Sadoka?" She yelled, not bothering to look in my direction as she walked away.

"You're just going to _leave_ me here?" I asked, upset but not particularly surprised.

The fluorescent lighting died down that illuminated Takeda shut down. Her high heels clicked against the cement floor in the distance. I used that sound to pinpoint her location because I couldn't really see her anymore. Finally, her reply floated out of the darkness.

"Well, if the director wants to do another take, I don't want to half to waste time putting you back up there." Came the selfish answer.

She exited the building, leaving me in a very empty studio.

After ten minutes of hanging there quietly like a good girl, I had had enough of this treatment. It was always the same with these people! Everyone in the film industry was so wrapped up in their own meaningless money-grubbing lives that they couldn't even spare a second to assist someone that desperately needed it!

"Argghh!" I yelled, hoping to vent out my frustration. A startled janitor, innocently sweeping up cigarette stubs and gum wrappers, screamed like a little girl and fled the premises. Maybe he had thought I was a prop or something.

As I swung there silently, I pooled my energy into making a mental list of everything I hated. Number one on the list was immediately obvious.

Namely, my role as one of the most infamous antagonists in the entire history of horror films.


End file.
